The Shadowbenders
by Blex Luthor
Summary: Everyone knows the shadowbenders don't really exist. Everyone. And anyone who entertains such fanciful thoughts knows better than to ever voice them. No, they can't exist and if they did then it'd be best to just pretend they didn't. In fact, I wouldn't click that link if I were you. You don't want their eyes on you. If they existed. Which, of course, they don't.


**A/N: This is set during "The Warlord Era", a war-torn period between AtLA and LoK of my creation that the last story (and probably the next story too) I put up is set in. I'm really looking for any sort of feedback, so please give readily. I used some made up slang in this to refer to people's ethnicity/nationality, my hope is that its meaning is self-explanatory, but if not please tell me so I know to either stop or provide a translation.**

* * *

**The Shadowbenders**

**Pincers and Tail**

_ASC 115_

"Fools! Bow before the unmatchable might of the shadowbenders! Surrender or die!"

Did I awake to find my life a Pu-on Tim play? It's all there: the overacting, the risible costumes, the at best tangential relationship with fact. Three men in black appearing at my battlements, interrupting the clear summer sunset with a hail of sharp metal, and declaring themselves shadowbenders? I'd sooner believe a report insisting that the sun had risen in the west. Even their name sounds too absurd to exist. And yet, the trio dressed in the baggy black clothes of stagehands shortening my roster of men-at-arms with frightening ease make a compelling argument to reassess that sentiment. It seems the outlandish stories of kuroko clad killers are a little less outlandish than I once assumed. Weren't these people supposed to be sneaky? More myth than man until you fall over dead? That's what they say at least. Why were they wearing those farcical clothes? Why declare your assault on a castle? Surely there is a better way to go about business.

"Admiral Chan, please, we must get inside," some presumptuous scullion said with a pull at my arm. "It's not safe out here!"

Presumptuous, but not incorrect. Musing on a mystical sect of killers and spies' tactics while throwing stars fly and my sentinels fall is a good way to wind up dead. I was so preoccupied with our queer assailants that I hadn't taken a decent look at the wench until now. A mistake on my part for she is a lovely creature. A common girl born in the Colonies with plenty of the Earth Kingdom flowing through her veins, if I still have my eye. Presumptuous and sumptuous. A delectable combination.

* * *

We watch from above, protected in a high tower by steel and uniforms, as bender and nonbender alike fall to the three mysteries in black.

I can tell she brims with want. I know it and she does too. And yet her provincial conservatism proves an efficacious blockade. It provides for an undeniably and irresistibly inspiriting package. Her every move drips barely restrained lasciviousness. She burns my arms and chest with her galvanizing touch in reply to the wet thuds of blades hitting my men and the mighty roar of our blazing retribution. Her rearing has instilled damnably frustrating concerns that bar my progress for now. Every advance on my part ends in her turning away blushing and denying herself her truest desires.

Ah, a true ingénue. The rarest commodity of all. What a shame to have had it hidden away in the hinterlands for so many years. The sweetest fruits hang from the highest branches, of course, and my first bite of this morsel shall be saccharine indeed. Some might deem it bad form to declare my victory so soon, but they are not me. I was born to a noble family of old and a great military house under the Fire Lords and both branches of my kinsman have long since known how to turn blushing bumpkins and vigorous battle mistresses alike into libidinous wantons. It is an art I took to with youthful avidity when first I received my lessons and, like a fine grape wine, I have only grown better with age. Wealth, prestige, and experience have been my sealed barrel. What was her name again? Doesn't really matter, I suppose.

"Sir, I-I'm frightened." Her ephemeral hand fled to my arm at that. "I've heard the stories before. Do they truly collect their victims' visages for Koh the Face-Stealer?"

Such precious superstition. I've had many a delicacy on my tongue and I keep with those of like accomplishments. Some of my cosmopolitan contemporaries consider one such as her beneath us. Too vulgar to bother with plucking from the branch. Perhaps they are right, but the moon-eyed former Colonial is a rare and virginal enough treat for me to still appreciate its flavor.

"We have been bonded by tragedy, you need not call me 'sir' anymore," I said, "just Chan."

Give her a smile. Put a hand on her shoulder. Lightly, ever so lightly. Military minxes don't need such wearisome caution, nor city girls or Ember Island socialites. But maybe that's why I still enjoy this less than luxurious luxury so. Ah, look at her. Blushing still, even more so from the salacious warmth of touch, but not drawing away. The siege approaches its end.

"Thank you, Chan." Barely a whisper. As if the scandal of informality were kept at bay by her silence alone.

Ah, so coy, so servile. True Fire Nation women are naturally vivacious. They revel in their coquettishness. They take what they want. The conflagration of a Colonial's passions burn just as hot, but remain repressed beneath an earthen shell of scruples. Their blazes are stifled by diluted blood and the backwards mores of their brutish neighbors. The impediment to their true nature fosters a deep obsequiousness in their hearts. Some grow so vexed by the Colonials' sturdy integuments that they never get to bask before the fires within. The fortunate few who understand the merits of tenacity are afforded a woman blossoming with naïveté and subservience.

"To speak true, it is my pleasure." I've found a touch of politesse never hurts. "As to the supposed shadowbenders, I too have heard some peculiar rumors regarding them."

"Do you believe them to truly be Koh's demon vassals?"

"No. Mysterious as they may be, they are but men. And soon enough they shall be corpses."

You could almost see the dread leave her body. Fear is not unlike a spirit, be that spirit fermented or otherworldly. It is all-consuming. It is intoxicating. It changes who you are, if only for a time. The shock, the dissonance of being thrust back into who you are without its influence and who you were while enthralled by its influence is dizzying. My words turned away the raw terror that was holding her tiny frame tense and upright. She collapsed against me. An opportunity. She looked up to me. Mouth agape, her words stuck in her throat. Perfect. Lean down, down, down. Embrace her. Pull her to you. Let it last but a second. A moment of fleeting, cresting infatuation and impulse. A precious instant of twin flames stoked to beautiful, roaring inferno. A foolish notion to be sure, but not ineffective by any means. The thrill of forbidden romance so passionate as to disregard rank and custom appeals to the base nature of the common palette.

A kiss. As our lips part she, with a touch as gentle as a fall snow, she pulled me back for a second moment of inflaming contact. Such a natural affinity for the art of seduction. Her nubile reciprocation is almost enough to make me believe it is I in the fantasy. And so it is signed. Properly done, a kiss is a surer contract than any truce or treaty. The merely probable has become the inevitable.

She breaks from the kiss almost as quickly as we began it. She turned away from me, hugging her arms to herself, with a flash of jet hair and pink silk. She moved quickly, but not so quickly that I missed the roses blooming on her cheeks once again or the sultry bite of a bottom lip. Yes, this is nicely sewn up. Perhaps a few drinks to speed things along, but I feel it is safe to say that this Agni Kai has been called in my favor.

"Admiral, I'm so sorry." Still hugging herself. Her back was still to me, but I'd imagine she's blushing as well. Her upbringing and embarrassment over her promiscuity will war with her sensuous aspirations. The latter will win the day.

"I beg you, call me Chan," a rote retort on my part. My eyes are only for the battle below now that the campaign above has been won. "And it is I who should apologize to you. I could not deny my heart for another moment. I fear I have been hopelessly in love since I laid eyes on you."

One of our masters at the Fire Navy Academy, Sensei Iongi, had a saying, "Lies win more battles than sword or fire." I was too young and arrogant to listen when he first told us that. With time I've come to heed his wisdom.

"No, please don't speak such things. I can't bear it," she said, her voice starting high and loud with stark passion then falling to less than a whisper.

These ebony scourges, these shadowbenders, they have talent. Once they've been captured and executed we'll have to see about our troops' training. Three men decimating a garrison of the Phoenix Queen's soldiers did not mean anything good for anyone, me least of all.

"Then I must beg your pardon again for my frankness," I say to her.

She drew near me again. Slowly. Delicately. Our hands lay side by side on the windowsill, barely brushing each other. Her hair tried its damnedest to protect her face's privacy, but even through that glossy, sable curtain I got the occasional glance of her. Her expression spoke of bashful acquiescence of her own longing. As I said, the latter would win day.

"I-I need a drink." She faltered. Perhaps she noticed me looking. "I fear I may swoon."

Excellent. Libations are doubly effective when my quarry needs not even my suggestion to imbibe them.

"Of course, my lady. Some rice wine should fortify your constitution. You'll have to step out a moment to tell the men I've posted there to fetch refreshments, these walls are strong enough to deny sound as well as most attacks."

The bout below has reached a fever pitch. Two of the shadowbenders were burned and bloodied, but still alive. The third was dishearteningly unharmed, but forced to stand sentry over his prone cronies. The lot of them were surrounded by my soldiers. Many were still standing and fighting. But most, far more than would make it into any reports to Phoenix Queen Azula, lay just as useless and aggrieved as the injured intruders. Their last specter is a wonder. A lesser man might actually believe him to be bending shadows. It is enough to make me think him more phantasm than man. The thought lasts a moment, but it was there. An indulgence, but not unwarranted. He would disappear into clouds of smoke and leap out of shaded depths to renew his assault. It's a shame he'll have to die.

"Thank you for your generosity." Ah, she has returned, a bowl spilling with liquid carefully balanced in one hand and a sloshing clay jar clasped in the other. "Your guards were most helpful."

I've been so enraptured I can't even remember them letting her back in. She kneels at a table in the middle of the room to enjoy her redoubt. Barely a sip and she's coughing. Her potation is unfamiliar to my nose. Quite sweet. Perhaps I'll sample the vintage after my conquest.

"What do you know of them?" I divert but a glance from the wreckage beneath us to the question. Kneeling, hands bunching silk as she steels herself for the next mouthful. Cheeks aflame as ever. From the heady machinations of liquor or the impropriety of the question, I wonder. It seems more and more that it may simply be her nature. "Forgive me," she said at my cessation, "I should not have asked."

"Ask anything you wish of me and it shall be done," so often these games come to clichés. They are dull to employ, certainly, but they wouldn't be clichés if they weren't known to work. "I gave pause out of mere embarrassment at my ignorance," humility is a key attribute to be able to falsify, "For I know nothing of them. My only defense is that I am not alone in this. No one truly knows anything about them, there exist only rumors when you speak of the shadowbenders."

"I would know what they say." Bold for her, even if it took half a bowl to find the courage.

"Consider me your servant, my lady. Your wish is my command." Few things excite a peasant woman like a glimpse of the life she'll never know, but always crave. "The stories are as numerous as they are extraordinary."

On the ground, the last of the shadowbenders was still dancing amongst red uniforms. If his two friends weren't betting their very lives on him, I'd nearly believe him to just be just toying with us. The late hour spawned long, deep alleys of darkness from our edifices. It must be why they chose to attack now. He certainly knew how to use the interlocking shadows to his advantage. They hid him, they protected him. As long as his comrades went untouched he was content to burst out of the murky gloom for a quick engagement and slide back into dusky safety after the bodies hit the ground. Such playful pretense was lost when one of my dragons tried to finish off the downed shadowbenders. The dark would birth hands of pitch and drag the fool away. The first few were spat out unconscious, bruises on their necks, but alive. The last to try his hand at incinerating the pair was pulled in like the others then fell screaming from the sky. What are these creatures? How do they do this? With his shadows, this final apparition was a regiment of rogues, not a single man. Perhaps there is some truth to their name.

"Pardon my absent-mindedness," I say, "I have been where my men are now and it pains me to witness their pain." Yes, she seems the type to have a heart that warms to see an officer be a father to his men.

"It is nothing, my love," I can hear the longing in her voice. Were this a battle it would appear I left no quarter.

"I have heard it said that they are malicious night spirits intent only on chaos." She started at that. I couldn't see her, my eyes still focused on the fray, but I heard her gasp and the clatter of a hand leaving a bowl in favor of a shocked mouth. Truly, the Colonial sense of superstition knows no bounds. "Fear not, two of them have fallen already. This surely proves that, whatever else they may be, they are still men."

"Thank the spirits." I hear the fear leave her again.

"Some say that they have the power to turn into a nest of scorpions so they may poison their victims in the night." Careful now, can't have her too scared. Perhaps some humor will set her at ease. "I was once even told a rumor," let her hear the smile in your voice, "that they drink a tea of poppy juice steeped in fire tree before they undertake their grisly work." Oh my, an actual chuckle at that. Stifled beneath hands, but still there. At last something beyond blushing and apologizing.

"Cactus juice, actually, from the Si Wong Desert." There was something different in her voice. "But you are hardly the first to make that mistake." She sounds more temerarious, less coy. Perhaps she is ready to act the true dragon woman and take what she wants.

"Indeed? A bizarre practice regardless. Why do you suppose they do it?"

* * *

"Why, to fortify our constitutions, admiral," I say as I rise from the table. I saw Chan's shoulders tense. I can tell the words hit him wrong. Even the slowest ostrich horse crosses the finish line eventually.

"What?" Such delightful terror in his voice. Masked, of course, under incredulity. He'll be telling himself that he misheard. That I misspoke. No need to reveal yourself a frightened boy before the woman you plan to bed, eh, admiral? Not until you are sure of the danger at least. You will be most sure soon, Admiral Chan, most sure indeed.

"To fortify our constitutions," I drain the rest of the sickly sweet juice from the bowl so quickly that twin rivulets of excess drip down my chin, "That we may perform our duties in a state of true ecstasy."

He's going to yell for help, I know it. The window is open. His men are likely too busy with the boys to take heed, but no sense in making this a dice game. A shadowbender must be quick. A good shadowbender is lightning striking. I am a very good shadowbender. I'm there before he can take the breath his plea would fly on, hand on his mouth and a blade to his jugular. Sweat shows on his forehead, a wet ruby the size of a child's fingernail slides slowly from where my steel kisses his neck. It is over.

"The children are playing, dear," I say in his ear. "Don't call them in just yet." The defiance left him. He slumped in defeat. "This window will not save you. I will not allow you to shout for help, I will not allow you to jump. You are free, however, to do what you wish in the room. Perhaps the door will be more fruitful." I turn him from the window and give him a slight push towards the door. He falls to hands and knees and scrambles for it. Pathetic.

I love it. Let others arrange accidents. I want mine to see the jaws of doom just too late for them to escape. I want to see the fear on their faces, hear it in their supplications for pity. I want them to read the last page in the tome of their lives and know that only two people will ever see the words written there and only one would live with the knowledge.

"Guards! Guards!" He called out again and again, slamming his hand against the door after the latch refused his efforts.

What did I tell him about shouting? They never listen.

"You said it yourself, admiral, these walls are thick and strong," I do so love irony. "Their boasts become regrets against an internal threat." He turns back to me with tears at the corners of his eyes. "And if you're calling for the two just outside this room, then it's doubly ineffective as they are quite deceased at the moment."

I believe I have his full attention now. I begin to make my way over to him from the window. Slowly, ever so slowly. The art of fear is the art of anticipation.

Realization came to him with each slow, delicate footstep. "You…you're a shadowbender!" Bother. It's so tedious when they start stating the obvious. "Then who's outside?"

"A distraction. They too are part of our number. The young and, I think you would agree, quite talented Ali and two other recruits. The deadweight will have to be punished when we return. But our Ali has quite a flair for the dramatic, doesn't he? If he becomes fully initiated I suspect he'll be rather fun to do some real work with."

I drew closer to him with each word. He crawled away desperately, the worm, head halfcocked to keep an eye on me.

"Please, I beg you, I have a wife! I have children!" He was stuck in a corner now. You'd think someone with as many military accolades as he would know to position himself better.

"Were you not planning to make a cuckold of your wife tonight?" His response was more sweat and more tears. Near the end most men turn out to be more water than meat. "Am I to believe this would have been the first time?" Still no words from him. Just tears. Just sweat. Just water. "Then I would be in less of a hurry to hide behind my family, were I you."

Slow your steps, girl. One can't rush. Be a glacier: slow, implacable, inevitable.

"D-Do you know who I am?" The indignation sets in. How dare I, he asks himself. He's the Eminent Whoever of Wherever, for the love of the ancestors! Always an amusing stage of my craft.

"You have only a few moments left. Do you really want to spend them asking such foolish questions?" The indignation gave way to true anger. I can see it in his eyes.

"Have you any idea what Phoenix Queen Azula will do if you touch even a hair on my head?" His voice did little to hide his dread borne rage either.

"The hope is she'll appreciate the message and act accordingly." Normally I would both sound and look far more solemn, but the intoxicating influence of the cactus juice allowed the slightest hint of dark amusement to slip into my voice and the smallest insolent smirk grace my countenance. "Of course, to ensure our missive is interpreted correctly, I have been bid harm far more than the hairs on your head."

Hope is as important to my art as timing. If there is no hope, there is no fear. Without hope there is only desolation. Utter desolation breeds acceptance. But with hope, there is much potential. Life is endlessly, desperately proliferous. It will do anything to continue. It will cling to even the slightest chance blindly. The words between my words said that a message needed to be sent, the death was just a means to an end. Hope filled him to the eyes and joy leaked out. Quickly covered up, but still there. Don't want to give up the game yet, do we?

"You need not kill me." The cocking of a single eyebrow was my only response. Give nothing away, but show him just enough rope to think he can climb his way out. "I speak true! I have the queen's ear. Let your words flow through me. I will support you in court in all matters. I can be more useful to you alive than dead." Very good, admiral. Well-argued and your voice hardly faltered. On a different day, you may well have lived. "Please, please," he couldn't help saying after a moment of my silence. Well, close enough to dignified at least.

"If our shadows in the Palace of Brilliant Rebirth are to be believed then you have much more than just her ear, you sly devil, you." I couldn't resist an impertinent wink. He seemed more taken aback by my words than incensed by my wink. The extent of our reach and information clearly distressed him. It should.

"That's all the more reason to keep me alive," his wretchedness leaked heavily into his voice. "You know how close I am to the throne." He rose slowly, cautiously to his feet. "I can do much for you and yours, but I need to be alive to do it."

As ever, when life sees an avenue to elude being extinguished, it takes it with wild abandon. He thinks there is still a chance. He doesn't even realize that the wood for his funeral pyre has already been gathered, but then he's meant to. I can't disdain him. If I knelt where he did now, would I be any different? Would I be any less frantic in my efforts to breathe for just a minute longer? Would any of us?

"You've said no falsehoods." I turned from him to see how our boys fared. As the admiral said, two had fallen, but Ali continued to devastate them from every direction. He's fast. Not an especially powerful bender, but he made up for it with an abundance of guile and versatility. He hasn't abandoned his brothers or the mission. Much potential there. Hope and my diversion emboldened Chan to hazard moving towards me. Those not in our order are as elephant mandrills to we shadows. The sound of his first plodding step caused three daggers to sprout out of the floor just in front of him. "I'd prefer you stay where you are, if you don't mind, admiral."

"Yes…I….yes. My apologies."

"Why do you think we chose you?" I kept my eyes on the battle. Admiral Chan wouldn't do anything. Not as long as he thinks he might escape with just an oath of fealty. I've been tasked with slaying this man, returning the gift, and making sure Azula understands our meaning. The details have been left up to me. Originally I was just going to leave Her Majesty our demands and the gift next to the admiral's remains, but with Ali faring so well I may just have time to do something a little more impressive.

"You want to send her a message." Worse than stating the obvious, stating the already said. Perhaps I shouldn't have granted him these few more minutes of life. "Since you were planning on killing me-"

"Are."

"Since you _are _planning on killing me, then I imagine you want her to know that anyone can die." Or perhaps he'll earn this time. "I am a wealthy and prominent public figure from a famous family as well as her political ally. My fate may well be telling of hers."

"That tells me why we chose someone like you," I turned back to him, "But why did we pick _you_? There are wealthier men, more storied surnames, and stauncher supporters." I can see my words throwing wood to his furnace. Burning hotter and higher. Thoughts and smoke swirling. He was close, but the game is growing tedious. "You have been her swain since before she raised sword and flame against her brother. She has lifted you from a mediocre first mate on a tiny ship in an irrelevant fleet to one of the most powerful men in the Navy. How many other people are so intimately entangled with the Phoenix Queen?"

"Few." Such deep unease in his eyes. "None."

"We don't want to just show her that the highest walls and strongest guards are as ants before us. She knows that already. I wouldn't even be here if she did not." Confusion clouds his eyes. My, she does play it close to the chest, doesn't she? "We want to show her the true price of betrayal. We will come from the heart of darkness to steal her favorite toys and break them in front of her. You will be the first."

Now I see the understanding. The confusion is gone, so filled his eyes are with raw, animal terror. It's the beautiful thing about fear. It tears away our illusions and shows us what we all truly are: animals. Without all our airs, we are no different. Desperate to live above all things. One more breathe, one more heartbeat, one more second.

"I have many uses!"

"And we wish to expend you on this." I take a deliberate step towards him. He trips over his feet trying to back away. Another step. He crawls for the far wall as fast as he can, staring me horrified in the eye the whole time. "Thank you for your service."

"Please." He pushes forward to his knees, half plea and half kowtow, his face to the floor. Tears fall from him fast and heavy. He shakes with the force of them. It takes a moment before he can speak again. "At least take me prisoner. Let your masters decide how best I may serve." I continued my advance, ever so slightly faster, with each word. I come to a stop as he finished his latest appeal. He braved a glance up.

"A captive?" Yes, tap the chin. Look away ponderously. Let him think he has truly given you pause to think. "I had considered this before, but there are complications. You'll slow us down. And if we take you, they'll be searching quite hard to recover the royal concubine."

"They'll search just as hard if you kill me."

"True enough." Let the hope fill him again. Perhaps I am too cruel. If it were less fun, perhaps I would not be. "What if you try to escape?"

"I won't!"

"I don't suppose you would tell me if you were planning to, would you?" Just a drop of fear, but the effect was pleasing still. "I'll admit, you've convinced me. You could be a uniquely valuable asset to have in the Phoenix Queen's courts." The drop was overwhelmed by a flood of primal joy. "Regrettably, I poisoned you at the window, so all that's really just for the lizard birds." It is a rare blessing to see a man crushed so. To see him behold an endless, cold wall of despair where he thought the warmth of salvation would be.

"No. No!" He clutched at his nicked neck.

"Yes. You should feel its effects momentarily."

He wept. No hiding it, no withholding it. He wept like a newborn babe while I watched. I knelt at the table, refilled my bowl, and watched. The bane was upon him. He no longer had the strength to stand. His breaths came shorter and shorter. His voice withered, but he wouldn't, couldn't stop talking. He begs and curses. I have no more words for him. My performance is done. Now I need only bask in my audience's adulation. Every word pained him more than the last, but he couldn't stop groveling and threatening for mercy, for life. I sat in silence and drank. He grew red-faced and lock-jawed. His veins were engorged and sickly purple against his pale skin. His cries of anguish become dire moans and whimpers of pain. His death throes meld with the sounds of Ali's sport to make dear music.

I rose when Chan had writhed his last and his final exultations of my work faded from his throat. The gold weighs heavy under my robes. It is time to relieve myself of the encumbrance. It is time the Phoenix Queen received our message. It is time to prepare the last part of my masterpiece for public adoration.

* * *

My arms grow weary. My legs tremble with fatigue. And yet I must continue. This is the most basic task asked of a grunt. Without the training or experience to serve in other ways, we are good only to distract the swine while the sausage is made. Those of us who survive this first trial may move on. Strictly speaking, I suppose those of us who don't also move on. The life of a shadowbender is one with no margin for error. If I can't even manage this then I will die less than a neophyte.

Use the shadows, use the earth. Their ignorance is my shield, their fear my blade. The liberal exploitation of both has left them petrified. None of them want to make a move. None want to draw my, to them, mystical ire. Thank the spirits. I can barely stand. Where is she? This should have been finished by now. If something stokes their courage, I don't know how much longer I can keep myself alive, let alone my comrades. Despite all this, I'm smiling. I've held out longer alone than most distractions last as a unit. It's been fun too. Live or die, these men will see me in their nightmares. That said, I would definitely prefer the former option all else being equal.

The call of a buzzard wasp sounds in the distance. The signal! At last. She's done with her "art". It's about gilacorn humpin' time.

Speed is crucial here. I dash out. Quick, quick, quick. I need to be gone yesterday. I tag two guardsmen with hard, black hands as I come out of the shadows. One flew back on earthen links then snapped forward and felled a gold-eye who had a distressingly immolatory gleam in his eye. The second knocked over three armed dragons standing between me and my brothers. As soon as their part is played, I pull my craggy hands back to me. Don't even miss a step on it. I hope boss lady has been watching. A soldier I hadn't noticed threw burning vengeance my way. I ducked just in time to live, but it was close enough to heat my back. That'll need salve.

Get up. Go, go, go. If I not for this mask, all they'd see of me is a madcap grin. Every eye in the courtyard is on me when I reach my friends. Time seems to slow. I raise a closed fist high. I feel them preparing to light me up more than I see it. I don't fight the urge to offer one last fillip before we go.

"You have denied us for now! But Koh demands payment, your faces shall be ours!"

And then I throw the pellet to the ground. We disappear into a cloud of smoke. They tear our cover apart with flame almost as soon as it goes up. Soon, but still too late. I never see the fires, but I hear their frustrated, blistering roar just above us as we sink safely into the ground.

* * *

They were gone nearly as quickly as they appeared. The shadowbenders left with a cacophonous smoldering and a parlous malediction. I can still almost hear the ghoul's closing curse echoing against the castle's walls. I like to imagine I am a woman who does not shake easily, but today chilled me to the bone. We were attacked by damned fables and they threw us about like ragdolls. I want to stare off into the distance and order my thoughts, but I am surrounded on all sides by reminders of tonight's attack. I've been so bedeviled that I hadn't even noticed one of my men standing and waiting for me to return his hail.

"Lieutenant, my apologies for my vacancy," I salute him back and he puts his arm down. "I have been…preoccupied."

"Anyone would be diverted after what happened here, Captain." Excellent discipline on this one. His hand hardly shook in all that time I had him waiting. He must be the new man they moved here. I'll have to learn his name, but not tonight.

"Have you finished your report?"

He pulled out a scroll and held it out for me wordlessly. A thick scroll. I'll never get through it in this state of mind.

"Just tell me what we're looking at."

"More casualties than we can count," he faltered there for a moment, "but it may not be as bad as we feared. Despite the high casualties, we've found relatively few fatalities so far."

"Indeed?" Strange. Very strange. "Perhaps the so called 'shadowbenders' are less lethal than the rumors would have us believe."

"Perhaps." He licked his lips nervously. Is he afraid to disagree with a superior? Or does he have bad news? "I had some concerns that this assault may have been a distraction to some greater goal."

"Past tense?"

"I took the liberty of having a few men check on the fleet." He waited for me to react to the technical insubordination. I waited for him to reach a salient point. It made for an awkward few seconds before he continued. "We have a significant portion of Her Majesty's Navy docked here and-"

"You need not explain yourself. I understand that snap decisions need to be made at times like this and I appreciate that you took the initiative to save time in protecting our nation's interests."

"Thank you, ma'am." He licked his lips again. Not as bad a habit as biting one's nails, but it is beginning to wear on me. "As I was saying, they checked on the fleet and nothing was amiss. Still, I have posted a guard on the harbor until we are surer of its security."

"Good work, lieutenant." Now for the other issue. "What word of the admiral?"

"I'm not sure it's my place to say," again with the lips.

"I am your captain and you are my lieutenant," I want today to be over and done with and if I have to put the fear of rank into someone to do that then it will be done, "it's your place to say whatever I tell you to."

"Of course, Captain." Licked his lips. Naturally. I need some sleep. I'm seriously considering demoting an officer because of a nervous tic. "He was last seen, ahem," the words seemed to be having trouble coming out, "well, escorting a young servant girl inside when the fighting started."

"That's a relief." I give a genuine smile. Both out of true amusement and to set the man at ease. "Admiral Chan is an infamous cad." It's interesting seeing a man try to slump in relief while remaining standing at attention. "Go fetch him, would you? Take any two soldiers who don't look busy enough along in case he needs to be carried."

"At once." A bow and he's gone.

* * *

I don't know why I was moved here. I am an unobstructive lieutenant who hasn't done anything mentionable and doesn't know anyone notable. But here I am at one of the Phoenix Queen's most important ports, surrounded by politics and pomp. It's surely better for my career, but I can't say I'm quite used to how these people live yet. Every move and word has ramifications. It's easy to be overwhelmed. This task, at least, I know I'm suited for. Find an admiral. Shouldn't be too trying.

My companions have served with the admiral for over a year and each know his favorite retreats better than I ever wish to. So far we've come up short, but as we perambulate the keep's innards we can only draw closer. We've nearly reached the highest room in one of the towers. I'm told, between childish titters, that its thick, privacy ensuring walls and sublime view of the grounds make it one of Admiral Chan's favorite romping rooms.

Red uniforms out front. A good sign. All the military men were called to help with the battle, and far more civilians than ought came to watch as well, the only thing that would keep either from attending is a direct order from the most powerful man in the province.

"Good eventide, soldier," I offer a salute. It is not returned. Both men stand still and silent. I repeat myself, louder. Still nothing. Peculiar.

Every step towards them deepens my curiosity. Why did they not return my greeting? Why do they disregard us now? Their posture is somehow…off. Unnatural. My curiosity is souring quickly into suspicion. My fellows silently share my misgivings. All our hands go tentatively to our swords. What is this? There is a steady sound of dripping. Under their necks, the red of their uniform looked deeper, darker. My suspicion rotted suddenly into horror. They were not standing, they have been affixed to the walls on either side of the door. They did not speak because they could not. They are dead. Bled out. We need to find the admiral.

"Take those bodies down now!" I speak before I realize I've stopped staring at my dead confederates.

"What?" That was the stocky one, Kani. He stood to my left. His sword had already shed its sheath. He spoke with what was closer to a growl than what most would normally call a voice. If the talk at mess is to be believed, he has quite an affinity for pugnacity. "We cannot!"

"I agree with my diminutive friend," the tall, slender man to my right, Kuren, said. "We need to leave these poor men unmolested until the magistrates can come to investigate." His sword was not yet out, but he gripped the hilt tensely, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

"You fools!" Perhaps not the best choice of words. I don't know who these men know. I don't anything. I outrank them, but if they are as connected as everyone else here seems to be, then that will hardly matter. "I apologize for my outburst, but these men were guarding Admiral Chan. If they are dead, it cannot bode well for him either." That got their attention. "He may be kidnapped, he may be dead, we may even still be able to stop the vile creatures who did this before anything befalls him. I know not. What I do know is that we need to get into that room immediately and that those blades are jamming the opening mechanism." Damn the politics, I'm a soldier and I have orders. Fetch the admiral. "Now, as your commanding officer, I order you to take those bodies down and open that door."

I was honestly surprised when they did as they were bade. The bodies came down and the door opened of its own accord. No, that's foolish. Doors don't open for themselves. Someone must have been trying to open it from the inside and couldn't because of the blockage. Blockage. Such an insensitive word for what it truly was.

The room is pitch. Night has fallen in full by now and no lamps are lit inside. All that guides us is the weak light spilling in from the hallway and the strong stench of copper. The effulgence from the hall is just enough to reveal the outline of the nearest lamp. One of them, I was too preoccupied to tell which, sent a swift jet a flame to it. The barbarity at the door could not prepare the mind for what sat before us now. These are not soft men. They have fought. They have killed. They vomited at the sight. I can't say how I was able to fight joining them.

A man rests against one of the walls. Missing his head. No, not just any man. Admiral Chan. It has to be. He is dressed in an admiral's full regalia. How could they have had time to dress him? I walk closer. Kani and Kuren are still unable to step any further into the room. Yes, it is Admiral Chan. I recognize his face. I hadn't noticed before, but he isn't missing his head. He has it with him. In his hands. His face is twisted in a final grimace of pain. Trails of blood drip down his cheeks from his eyes. The top of his skull is cut off. A clean cut. Inside is…something. Metal, judging from how the light hit it. Gold. Gold coins. Gold coins fill his emptied, severed head. Each emblazoned with the queen's two-headed phoenix.

There is red on the wall behind the admiral. What is that? I thought just residuum from the killer's gruesome work, but no. It doesn't look right for that. I need more light. We have been too engrossed in the macabre remains of our admiral to light the rest of the lanterns. That will have to be rectified. I send flame to illuminate the room fully. I was barely aware of doing it, so entranced was I. The red is words. Sanguine, copper scented words. A message written in Admiral Chan's own blood.

_PAY IN FULL_

_OR NOT AT ALL_

* * *

**A/N: Well, there she is. I hope everyone enjoyed. Again, a review would be greatly appreciated.**


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